Where the Heart Is
by piper maru duchovny
Summary: Monica and John have made a life for themselves after the unit was closed down. They've made a family. She's seven and the spitting image of her mother with eyes identical to her daddy's, she looks like a filly running around their ranch all day, and there's no one she loves as much as her borrowed big brother, Gibson. - Doggett/Reyes, post-series


**I've been kicking this story around in my head for awhile but it finally came to fruition today. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours. Definitely Chris Carter's. **

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_Then you took my hand, oh, and showered me with grace,  
Wherever you are, that's where I want to be...  
-Bryan Lanning's "This is Home"_

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The smooth weather worn wood beneath her feet was still warm in spite of the cool rain that was falling down in sheets as she watched her little girl sprint across the backyard. Barefoot and with jet black hair matted to her face, the little girl sprinted through the rain with barely a shudder at the sounds of rolling thunder resounding off the mountains. She knelt down and spread the towel she had brought with her so she could immediately wrap her daughter up. "Hey angel."

"Oh mama," the little girl breathed as she launched herself from the last step and into her mother's awaiting arms. Wrapped in the towel that was fresh from the dryer, Audrey Doggett shoved the hair back from her face and sighed happily as she leaned against her mother. "Mama, you should have seen it. The horses were so pretty, runnin' around and dancing as the storm came in."

"Sounds pretty, baby," Monica Reyes told her daughter with a kiss to her nose before she covered her face with the towel to ring her hair out. "I want to hear all about it but first you need to go put on some dry jammies so we can have dinner before bed. You were out playing so long that it's gonna be bedtime soon."

"Is daddy home yet," Audrey asked as her mother ushered her through the doors.

"Not yet," Monica told her as she followed the seven year old into her bedroom. "He'll probably get in pretty late tonight. You'll see him in the morning."

"Did he see my brother," she asked as she left her wet clothes in a pile on the floor before yanking out fresh clothes.

Monica smiled and knelt down to help her daughter get her damp skin into the nightgown. "Yes, baby, daddy got to see Gibson and he said that he misses you bunches and is looking forward to seeing you for your birthday."

"That's just a few more weeks," the little girl informed her as she pulled the dark locks out from under the neck of the gown, beginning a long braid down her back. "And Aunt Dana is gonna come too, right?"

"She's going to try." She secured the braid that hit just below the girl's ribcage and pulled her in to kiss her head. "Unfortunately West Virginia is really far away and Aunt Dana's job makes it hard for her to get away sometimes."

"But I haven't seen her since I turned five," Audrey whined as she leaned her face into her mother's neck, her hand coming up to trace over her mother's collarbone like she had so often as a baby. "Skype don't count, mama."

"I know and I said she'll try."

"Okay," the seven year old relented. "Can we eat dinner now? My tummy is making it's own thunder."

Monica laughed and scooped her daughter up, swaying her back and forth as she walked out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen table. "I'm surprised your tummy hasn't tried to eat itself. You've been out with those horses since breakfast."

"I ate some berries," Audrey told her with a shrug.

"Well that's something." She plopped the little girl on her chair and moved toward the stove to start dishing up plates for the both of them, ignoring the pull in her chest as she didn't grab a third plate for her husband – this consulting in DC for weeks at a time thing was hard sometimes, no matter how independent they were or how much they talked. With a heavy sigh, she tucked her own long hair over one shoulder and smiled at her daughter who sat at the table singing quietly to herself. With the plates in hand, she made her way back to the table and took the seat next to her daughter like she always did when it was just the two of them. "So tell me about the horses."

"Mama, there were so many," Audrey tells her around a bite of mac and cheese. "Big ones – the mamas and daddies – and little ones. So many colors. Speckles of black and white and the most beautiful brown ones. I followed them all the way to the creek and they ran around there all day while I climbed the trees and watched them from way up high."

"That sounds beautiful." There was something in the way that her daughter saw the world that reassured the woman that no matter how many evils she and John had faced over the years there was still good left in the world. "You're being careful when you climb, monkey toes?"

"Yep."

"Good." Monica took a bite of her own dinner. "What do you say tomorrow you and I go riding and we'll see if we can find your wild horses again."

"Oh yes," she breathed. "Daddy will come too?"

"I'll ask if he wants to ride double with me but you know that daddy doesn't ride very well. He'd probably have to take the four wheeler and that would just scare off all the pretty little ponies."

Audrey frowned. "Oh. That's right. Clumsy daddy."

"Very clumsy," Monica told her around a chuckle as she remembered years before – back when Gibson had been the only child in their home and she had tried to teach John how to ride only for the man to end up in the creek. Give him a suspect on a crowded city street and he could make a flying tackle from a fire escape but the man could not balance on a horse to save his life.

The little girl stifled a yawn into her elbow. "I'm sleepy, mama."

"Eat a few more bites," she urged. "Then it's time for sleep."

She managed to finish her macaroni and a few bites of the small salad on the side of the plate before exhaustion caused her to abandon her dinner in order to curl up in her mama's lap. Monica relished the moment, knowing full well that it wouldn't be long before the seven year old would be too big to curl up that way with all her lanky limbs. Audrey nuzzled her mother's neck and curled her fingers in the raven locks that fell over her mother's shoulder. "I love you, mama."

"I love you more, baby mine."

It didn't take very long for the girl to fall into a deep slumber and Monica carried her daughter to her bed as she swayed to the song of the falling rain on the tin roof of their cabin. She managed to tuck her in and pressed a kiss to her temple before she backed out of the bedroom to make her camp on the couch until her husband got home.

Flopping across the well worn couch, she pulled the afghan off the back and wrapped it around herself before flicking on the lamp and plucking up the book she had been reading for the last several nights. A picture on the end table caught her attention and she propped her book on her thigh as she grabbed it, running her thumb over the tattered frame. The photo had been taken not long after Audrey had been born; it had been a cool September day and it was Gibson's last day home before he returned to his job on the east coast. Gibson wasn't and would never be their child but he had filled some hole that was missing in both their hearts – for John soothing the wound left by the loss of Luke and for Monica he opened up a world she hadn't been aware she wanted so badly. Gibson and Audrey had taken to each other like ducks to water and, though Gibson would never be their child, he was Audrey's brother and he doted on his little sister like she hung every star in the sky – patiently answering every question and giving her a million piggyback rides. Monica missed the boy, the man, deeply; she and John tried to make time to see him on every consultant job in DC but he was busy with his own life at the same time but he still managed to make the trip out west every few months because his little sister would accept nothing less.

Placing the picture back on the end table, she sunk deeper into the couch and cracked open her book with the rain as a comforting lullaby while she counted the minutes until her husband arrived home.

She was dozing when the front door opened, banging with the force of the wind, and she sat up with a smile as her husband stepped inside looking like a drowned rat. Happiness pulsed through her as she cast her book to the coffee table and scrambled her way out of the tangle her legs had created with the blanket before scrambling across the room to his arms. She cupped his jaw and kissed him deeply as he kicked the front door shut, reaching blindly behind him to secure the lock as she cupped his jaw and held him close. "Hello darlin'," he mumbled against her lips. "I've missed you too."

"That case took too long," she whined quietly. "We missed you so very much, John Doggett."

"Yeah," he asked. "The little miracle fast asleep?"

"Mhmm." She sighed happily as she clung to him. "She spent the day following the wild mustangs and climbing trees – she nearly fell asleep in her dinner."

"Good," he told her as he pulled her closer, lifting her up so he could carry her.

"John!" Monica laughed against his neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"I told ya that I missed ya too," he told her as his calloused thumbs dipped under the waist of her shirt. "Like crazy really. Nearly took off the head of some rookie who tried to stop me to ask a question on my way out the door this morning."

"Good," she laughed. "I would have shot him."

John laughed heartily as she pulled at his jacket. "I'm not surprised. That temper of yours."

"I don't have a temper." He quirked an eyebrow. "Much anyway... Shut up."

"Daddy," Audrey's voice called quietly from the doorway.

The parents sighed but it seemed inevitable, after all Audrey had missed her daddy too. John planted his wife back on the floor of their cabin and pulled away from her touch to greet his daughter. "I'm home, Rey."

Like her mother before her, she sprinted across the floor as fast as her legs would carry her – looking like a filly in springtime as she raced to her daddy's arms. He caught her and spun her around before lifting her up in the air to give her an appraising look. "I grew," she told him. "Mama said so. A whole quarter of an inch."

"Well stop that nonsense," he ordered as he put her back on the floor with a tweak to her nose. "You'll be taller than me soon if you keep it up."

"Will not," she pouted. "I'll never be bigger than you, daddy, because I'll never be too big for you to carry me."

"That so," he asked as he finally removed his jacket and hung it up. "I suppose that's acceptable."

"Did you see my brother?"

"I did," he told her as he knelt on the floor to look her in the eye. "He said that he cannot wait to see you on your birthday and he's going to call you bright and early tomorrow morning so you better get back to sleep or you'll sleep through it."

"Okay," she agreed. "Come tuck me in. Both of you? Please."

"Of course," Monica told her and took her hand, leading her to the bedroom with John at her heels.

He caught the child by her hips and tossed her onto the twin bed before flopping down beside her as he pulled the blankets around her. He pulled his wife onto the bed with them and laughed as she fell across his hips. "Sweet dreams, Rey."

"Goodnight baby," Monica told her. "The angels will guard your dreams tonight."

"And the ponies," she told her mother. "They'll guard the ponies tonight too, right?"

"For sure," John told her. "Now close your eyes, Audrey. It's time for sleep."

"Mmkay," she relented and rolled onto her stomach so she could bury her face into her pillow. "Goodnight mama, g'night daddy. I love you."

"We love you more," they whispered in unison.

They waited until her breathing had grown deeper and a soft snore was whistling through their sleeping angel's nose before they made their way out of her bedroom and into their own where they quickly shed their clothing and climbed into bed together. With no light but the lightning sporadically lighting up their bedroom window, Monica rested her head over her husband's heart and let the soft metronome of the beat lull her. "I'm glad you're home."

He dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. "You have no idea how glad I am to be home."

"I'm gladder to have you home," she protested.

John laughed. "Whatever you say, Mon."

"You're supposed to say that you're even more gladder to be home," she corrected him with a poke to the ribs.

"Babe."

"Ugh," she sighed. "Whatever did I do to land a romantic like you?"

"Probably the same things I did to land a headcase like you."

She laughed. "We're quite the pair, John Doggett."

"That we are," he told her with a smirk. "Now sleep because we've only got about five hours before a certain wild child wakes us up so she can talk to her brother."

"He's doing okay," she asked. "Really okay?"

"He is. Misses us. Misses Rey. But he's doing well for himself out there, Mon. You know this, you just saw the boy a few months ago."

"I know." Monica sighed. "Some days I just miss him."

"Oh hell. You and Rey are both gonna be crying on the phone in the morning – aren't ya?"

"Probably."

He smiled. "I love you."

She tilted her head up and smiled back at him. "I know. I love you too."

"Go to sleep," he instructed.

"You first."

"Monica..."

She laughed. "Fine, fine. Welcome home."


End file.
